Lapsus Memoriae [Rávamë's Bane: Book 1]

Part III : Chapter 15 ~ The Voice In My Head

I suppose it was inevitable. I was still unconscious.

My eyes were shut, my side didn't hurt, and my stomach wasn't trying to crawl out through my mouth. One mini marathon, a seriously traumatic bodily event, and an unexpected memory recall later, the blackness of deep unconsciousness finally decided it was time to collect its dues... sort of. I was still obviously out like a light, but at least part of my brain had finished rebooting enough to let me think semi-coherently. And my first semi-coherent thought was:

"I think I need to re-evaluate my policy on self-preservation."

It came out loud, which was how I knew I was back in Dreamland again. The ground I was lying on felt grainy and soft under me, and I could hear the soothing sound of waves hitting the shore not far off. And there was no pain.

Yep. Definitely dreaming.

Which meant the only thing missing now was...

"You're a fucking lunatic. You know that, boss?" The blunt, familiar voice of my inner self was like a club against my temples, coming from about a foot away from my ears.

"Tink," I groaned, not moving from where I was lying on my back in the sand. "You're not seriously going clobber me with a lecture now, are you?"

"Honestly? I still can't decide whether to slap you or kiss you." She replied cooly, her voice still very close by. "You just ran for half a day with a poisoned crossbow bolt stuck in your side. That's a special kind of badass."

A soft laugh escaped me, and it felt obscenely good to breathe without any pain.

"Does it count as vanity if I accept compliments from my own alter ego?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It was also epically stupid."

I grunted in acknowledgement of her point, still not opening my eyes.

"You don't need to be such a wingebag about it, Tink. We're still alive, aren't we?" I paused for a moment. "I assume we're alive? Because if we're not, that would make this conversation pretty redundant."

"We're alive. No thanks to you."

"Well, that's something at least." I mumbled, and Tink clucked her tongue in wordless but obviously disapproving reply. I suppose I should have expected this too.

No way something as insignificant as a massive physical trauma could get rid of her so easily. Or the inevitable chasing lecture about survival. But I was still in no mood to get beaten over the head by her. I could try and ignore her. I could pretend she wasn't there. But, as much as I wanted to, there wasn't much I could actually do to stop her. So I just sighed and accepted it, like accepting an unpleasant but inevitable fact of life - like disease, taxes, and terribly written teen romance novels making the Times Best Seller list.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes and sat up.

We were on a beach.

I'd been on a few beaches in my short but colourful life, but none like this. Most people think of white sand, palm trees, turquoise sea and lots of sunshine when they think of beautiful coastlines. This one had none of that, but still managed to look spectacularly beautiful, in an untamed primal sort of way. Tall grey stone cliffs surrounded the mile long stretch of dark gold sand. The sea was rough and crashing against the shore in the way that said a storm was approaching, the sky dark and clouds rolling on the horizon even though the sun still shone on us. Tall, white topped waves would have battered the beachfront where we stood if it hadn't been for the jagged barrier of rocks and reefs breaking their charge towards the cliffs.